


Saying Good-Bye

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Character Death, Death and Dying, F/M, Grief, Grieving Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: What if Laura Barton had died shortly after giving birth to their son?  What would Clint have done and how would Natasha Romanov, his best friend, help him through?





	1. Chapter 1

There were a few calls you got in your lifetime that fundamentally changed things. To get two of them in a row in one day was shocking, especially for a woman like Natasha who had once been taught that connection was death, that to be compromised meant the Grim Reaper would be waiting. When Clint had called to say Laura finally had the baby, Natasha’s relief was palpable. Natasha had been on the phone with him on and off for days while Laura came to the end of a difficult pregnancy, sitting in a boring training in D.C. where she was teaching interrogation technique to a small group of agents. She would have still been there plugging along at her job if Clint hadn’t called back again a little over an hour later, barely able to get out two words: “Laura died.” Natasha’s brain spun then she heard Clint’s phone drop and someone else pick it up to explain. She was on a plane to Iowa in under an hour. Clint needed her right now and that was all that mattered. 

Natasha just stared at the baby for a long time when she saw him the first time at breakfast that next morning. Clint’s son was a cute little thing, only two days old and already he had her heart. It was weird how that happened. He was currently camped out on Clint’s chest snoring. Clint was on the phone attempting to make funeral arrangements for Laura who’d died just after bringing the kid into the world. Hell, the kid didn’t even have a name at this point. Natasha had just come the moment Clint called her in tears, not sure what to do with a baby but knowing that she needed to be there for him. Single-minded was the word Coulson used when she got like that, and like every other time, he didn’t stand in her way as she calmly walked out of the training, eyes red-rimmed from crying with her best friend over an unimaginable loss. “Can you?” Clint patted the baby on the back and Natasha leaned over to pick him up so Clint could step out of the room. 

There were relatives and a couple of Laura’s friends stopping by on heavy rotation, but at this moment it was just the two of them. Well, she thought as she looked down at the baby, three. Clint was in the other room trying to find Laura’s social security number while Natasha was learning how to keep a sleeping baby asleep. Rocking helped. She’d figured that out right away. After her graduation ceremony, Natasha had all but blanked out everything about children, especially babies. Even in the hellish conditions she’d grown up in, even after all she’d been taught to be, Natasha had always wanted to be a mother. Then it had been taken from her and she forced it to the very back of her brain. All this was pulling it right up. “… yeah… yeah… tomorrow, 8 am. Yeah.” 

Natasha watched from the doorway as Clint sat at the wooden table, disconnected phone sitting in front of him. He’d leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. She knew that posture and came over quietly, opening the freezer and getting a bag of peas. She wrapped it in a kitchen towel and laid it over the back of his neck. “Tylenol?” Clint nodded and Natasha managed to get the bottle open one handed. He swallowed them dry, a skill Natasha found off putting but useful. “Do you want to catch some sleep? He’s out.” Her hand rested on the back of his head, slowly massaging the tight thin muscles of his scalp. Clint groaned and seemed to give up, flattening his chest on the table and cradling his head in his arms. Natasha stood behind him rocking the baby and rubbing Clint’s head for a long time. “You know I meant that you should go upstairs, right?”  
“That requires moving.” 

“It does.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Come on.” Natasha urged Clint to his feet. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours together for almost a week now. Laura had turned into a high risk pregnancy late in her pregnancy and had been in distress for a full day before they delivered the baby. He’d been up for a day before that fretting. Natasha knew because they’d been texting the whole time. “He’s going to be up soon,” Natasha said of the baby. She nodded for the stairs. “If he starts crying we’ll sit outside. You need some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long one.” Tomorrow Clint had to go and arrange his wife’s funeral with the _help_ of her family. 

“… will you come with,” Clint asked as he paused two stairs up. 

“Of course.” 

Clint gave her half a nod before turning around and heading upstairs. She hoped he could sleep. She also hoped the baby stayed down for awhile. She chanced laying him down and was rewarded with almost an hour of time to clean up. Having a baby was, apparently, very messy. And there was a lot of laundry. That’s what Natasha focused on first, followed by dishes and the diaper pail. She didn’t know how women gave birth then did this. Well, she did, but she didn’t let herself think of it. 

Natasha was folding a load when she heard a quiet knock on the screen door. “Hi,” a tall woman holding a large pie said, “I’m Chrystal. I sold Clint and Laura their house. I wanted to drop this off.” Natasha could smell the woman’s perfume from ten feet away, not a good thing. She could also smell the desperation. 

“Clint’s sleeping,” Natasha told the woman from the other side of the screen door. “I’ll tell him you stopped by.” She unlatched it and took the pie, giving the woman a tight smile before she let the door close again and walked away. _That_ was not going to happen. Ten minutes later the baby woke up. He wasn’t fussy, just awake, looking around. Natasha liked moments like that. He could regard her and she could do the same to him. She offered him her hand and he gripped her finger, bringing up that surge she felt whenever he looked did it. Natasha hummed quietly to him for a moment as she tried to come to terms with just how much she cared about this tiny person she’d known for two days. 

Natasha changed him and put him in his cradle, turning it on so it rocked gently. She didn’t get all the little gadgets but this thing was great. Early on when the baby wasn’t sure of the bottle, this had been what soothed him for a few moments at a time and allowed their eardrums to recover. “Your father is actually sleeping. This is a good thing,” she told the baby. “I’m thinking he might get four hours. This is a record and we’re going to let him have it because he really needs it, little man. You’re going to stay nice and quiet, aren’t you?” Natasha turned on soft music which the baby quickly focused on. Well, maybe not focused so much as noticed. Regardless, between that and the thing hanging over his head, the baby stayed quiet. 

That gave her time to put together a few things people had brought over, heating up the beef stew one of Laura’s friends dropped off. She flipped on the oven and tossed in some of those frozen dinner rolls, hoping she wouldn’t burn them. She wasn’t great in the kitchen. Natasha’s skills were more behind the bar and in the bedroom. She started to sing under her breath then to the baby as he refocused on her. “… a hustle here and a hustle there. New York City is the place where they said hey babe, take a walk on the wild side.” 

“… are you singing a song about prostitution and gender bending to my two day old kid?” Clint was standing in the middle of the staircase with a touch of a smirk on his lips. God she’d missed that stupid smirk. 

“Maybe. Next is NWA’s greatest hits,” she threatened with a wink. “I put dinner on. It’s almost ready if you’re hungry.” Clint gave her a shrug. “Well you’re eating anyway. Sit down.” Natasha served him a bowl of stew, a big hunk of bread with butter, and a glass of iced tea. That she’d actually made. She got herself situated then sat with him. “What can I do to help tomorrow?” 

“… I’ve never done this before. I just don’t want to go without backup.” Clint was poking at some meat, clearly uninterested in actually eating but knowing he ought to. “I’ve got a bunch of documents I need to bring. I guess she’s already there.” His brows knitted together and he put his fork down. “Think you’d be ok if I did some work in the barn tonight?” Natasha had a couple of reports she needed to finish up but she could manage that if the baby was peaceful. So far they’d been lucky, he was a pretty good baby. 

“Yeah, of course. If you tell me where you guys keep your documents, I can start looking for things.” They talked nitty gritty for a little while, eating their food as the music played in the background. It morphed from Lou Reed to the Go Go’s then through some Nine Inch Nails. She’d just tossed her iPod on the speaker and pressed shuffle so the randomness was amusing her a bit. “I’m glad you got some rest. Your color looks a little better.” 

“My color looked bad?” Clint paused with a bite halfway to his mouth. 

“You’ve looked grey,” Natasha told him. Clint seemed annoyed at his body and grumbled something under his breath before filling his mouth. It was pretty obvious that Clint was eating on autopilot. He just shoveled most of his food into his mouth then excused himself to the barn. He stopped at the baby’s bassinet for a few minutes, talking quietly to his son before disappearing out the back door. He was gone through waking and feeding the baby, her finishing her reports, then putting him back down. 

Around two in the morning Natasha wandered to the barn with a sandwich and chips wrapped up in a brown paper bag in hand. The door was wide open as were all the windows and she could hear his music from a way off. It was warm out and it was the kind of night were the bugs seemed to be singing along to the music. “Thought you might need a pick me up,” Natasha told Clint as she tossed him the bag lunch she’d packed. He caught it, but Natasha caught the shine in his eyes and the red rim around them. “I put a couple of Oreos in too.” 

“Thanks. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Clint got up, a little unsteady on his feet. She’d noticed the crushed, empty beer cans in the trash when she walked in but she wasn’t saying a word to him about that. “You should get some sleep.” 

“I could say the same about you.” She put her back to the drafting table he’d been sitting at, glancing at what he’d been doing. They were designs for new arrows, something he did when he was drunk and dreaming. “So either you eat or you come in and get some sleep. We have an appointment in the morning.” Clint’s hair was a little too long right now and was falling in his eyes annoying him. “I’ll make an appointment to get your hair cut on the way back.” She walked over to him and ran a hand through the blonde mop on his head, “can’t have you looking like a sheep dog.” 

Clint tried for a bark but ended up just closing his eyes at the touch of her hand. “… I don’t want to go tomorrow.” 

“I know.” Natasha pulled him into a hug, resting his head on her shoulder so she could keep stroking his hair. “It would be weird if you did.” 

“I’m going to bury my wife,” Clint said absently, looking down at his hand. “You know I never wore a wedding ring. It was always in her jewelry box.” He couldn’t wear it because of what they did, Natasha wanted to tell him, but now wasn’t the time for her to speak. “Do you think I should put it on?” 

Natasha shrugged a little, pulling back to look at him. “Do you want to?” 

“… maybe for tomorrow?” 

“If it’s going to make you feel better, Clint.” She nodded, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t think this is going to make me forget you’re picking between sleep and eating. You can have both but can’t choose neither.” Clint was staring at her, just a little curiosity in his eyes. She almost asked what but knew he was drunk so she couldn’t predict the answer to her question. 

“Sleep, I think. Maybe both if you’ll share the sandwich.” Natasha agreed and they went outside to sit on the porch swing and eat. They kept quiet, passing food back and forth until it was gone then going in. The baby was awake so Natasha changed him and brought him and a bottle upstairs. She was just about to go sit in the nursery with him when Clint caught her by the elbow. “You two can sit in here with me.” Clint was in the doorway to the guest bedroom where he’d been sleeping. Clint was struggling with being in the master bedroom. 

“Tell you what… come sleep in my room and I can get a couple things done before this guy passes out.” Clint agreed easily, changing into a pair of sweats and a tank top and brushing his teeth. Natasha might be there as his friend but she had never failed to notice Clint’s arms when he showed them off. She figured it was kind of the same thing with guys and breasts. She was already in bed, the baby resting on her legs as she tapped away on her tablet. “Do you have a preference for side of the bed? I prefer away from the door.” 

“Fine, I’ll go on the kill first side,” he teased before crawling into bed. He looked exhausted and Natasha set down her tablet. He was looking up at her with those pale blue eyes, the red around them amplified in this light. “Natasha,” Clint asked quietly. 

“Yes?” She cocked her head to the side, hair slipping from the loose bun she’d put it in. 

“Will you pet my head?” Natasha did without hesitation, watching Clint fall asleep in minutes. After an hour or so, his son followed. Natasha laid the baby between them and slid down herself keeping guard over their sleep until the sky began to grow light.


	2. Chapter 2

Decisions became overwhelming around the time they began discussing how to inter Laura because Clint got up and walked out of the room at the funeral home for some air. Laura’s sister had gotten into town late the night before and they crossed paths on the way out. She met her nephew as his father left to figure out how to bury the kid’s mother. Natasha reflected on how fucked up that was as she continued to quietly make decisions with Laura’s mother, writing them down so they could review them with Clint when he returned. 

Natasha had known Laura well, had been friends with her, so that made it all harder. That’s what had her out on the patio with the gardener smoking her first cigarette in ten years as she waited for Clint to come back from his final chat with the funeral director. She was just stubbing it out as Clint came out the front door. “Nat?” 

“Shut up,” she told him as she got to her feet. 

“You shouldn’t….”

“I said shut up,” she repeated with a little smile and peck on his cheek. “Come on. I’ll drive. We need to get the baby a few things.” 

They ended up at Target, the place everyone went in the Midwest apparently, picking up a bunch of baby stuff. They were looking at newborn diapers when a busy body started chatting them up, telling her how amazing she looked for having a newborn. She called them a little family and all Natasha could do was reach down and take Clint’s hand because he got incredibly choked up and looked somewhere between throttling the woman and crying. She put him behind the cart and gave him a little push in the right direction… away from the bitch with the big mouth. It wasn’t until they were putting the bags in the car that Clint spoke. 

“… my kid… he’s never going to know her.” Clint’s knuckles were white where his hands gripped the cart. “I can tell him everything, recite chapter and verse about my life with her… he’s never going to _know_ his mother.” Natasha didn’t know what to say and ended up just listening to him for awhile. He stood behind the car, arms crossed over his chest as he talked. “How the fuck did this happen?!” Clint’s fist landed on the metal with a loud thunk. 

“There’s no good answer to that,” Natasha told him softly. “I could say God or fate or whatever, called her up and she’s in a better place but I think we both know that’s not going to help.” She considered her words carefully, “and you are going to talk about his mother. You’re going to tell him how kind and smart she was, and how she kicked your ass up and down if you stepped out of line.” She took his hand again, bringing it to her chest to hold over her heart, “we’re going to keep Laura’s memory alive for that little boy Clint. They both deserve that.” 

Clint didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around her and gave her a side squeeze before getting in the passenger side. She’d told him he wasn’t driving today and he had given in way too easily, scaring her at first. “Can we grab something to eat?” 

Natasha had to tamp down her excitement because Clint hadn’t actually asked for anything to eat in days. “Got a taste for anything?”   
“A rare burger.” 

Natasha smiled. “I think we can do that.” They found a greasy spoon and ordered a bunch of food which was all split between them. They didn’t talk about Laura or the baby, just talked about nonsense. Old missions, old partners, old romances. It was ok. It was a good break from the otherwise miserable situation. They had milkshakes and fries and didn’t forget to have some stuff to go for Laura’s sister who was watching the baby back at the house. There was a ton of food, but the burger was really good. Natasha knew she was going to come back. There wasn’t a lot in the area around Clint’s place, but that was the idea. The good thing was that there were a few diamonds in the rough like this to enjoy. 

They came back to find Caroline on the front porch with the baby in her arms, swinging. For a moment she looked like Laura and Natasha heard Clint’s breath come up short at that. “… going to the barn,” was all Clint said as he got out of the car. That left her to deal with Caroline and the baby, but that was fine. That was what she was here for, to let him grieve and recover… and to deal with all the shit he didn’t want to deal with right now. That’s what partners were for. 

“How did it go?” Caroline was a lot like Laura and maybe that was why Clint was in the barn. “He’s been an angel. Has Clint decided on a name yet?” 

“It went as well as it could,” she held the door for Caroline to pass through with the baby. “And Clint is struggling with the naming. Laura wanted Cooper but he doesn’t know if he can do that. Right now he’s just been referring to him as ‘the kid’.” Caroline flinched. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. He makes sure he spends time with the baby. Clint’s just….” 

“Falling apart?” 

“Pretty much.” Natasha sighed. “Come through to the kitchen. I’ll make tea and you can tell me how things are going.” They weren’t friends, just friendly having been together at a couple of holidays over the years. Natasha listened to Caroline talk about her job as a teacher and how she had the next week off to help however they needed. Natasha didn’t think they’d need a week, but a couple of days help would be amazing. 

“Big class this year?” Caroline talked and Natasha served them tea with some banana bread one of the church women had brought over. Laura was well liked in her community and the groaning shelves in the refrigerator showed that! She brought out some fresh fruit and some cream cheese, putting them down in front of Caroline. “Natasha,” Caroline waited until Natasha was seated and her tea was poured, “how did this happen?” 

“No one predicted it would go this way,” Natasha said softly. “At least she got to feed the baby once.” Laura had a massive stroke half an hour after the first feeding and died two hours later. Clint had been there for every moment from watching his wife feed their new son to the moment her heart stopped beating. He had talked about that with such a dull fragility that Natasha knew when that well broke that it was going to be hell. From the height of happiness to the depths of sorrow in under three hours. 

“The nurses got some pictures if you want to see.” Clint had sent her several through labor up until that feeding. She turned her phone so Caroline could see. Caroline got to the photo of Clint, Laura, and the baby and broke down, much like Natasha did just after she got off the phone with Clint that morning. She’d sat there for a minute, stunned, and opened her messages to make sure that the picture of that happy family was only a few days ago. Five minutes after Clint’s call, she was on the phone with Coulson explaining that they were both taking indefinite leaves and why. Coulson hadn’t argued, arranging a ride for her and promising to be here tomorrow. 

Caroline excused herself and Natasha got up to check on the baby. He was fast asleep so Natasha took a chance and headed out the door with a beer in one hand and a charger for his phone in her back pocket. She found him carefully trimming a newly fletched arrow under a heavy magnifying glass. “Hey.” He grunted in her general direction and Natasha felt like that was a good enough approximation of hello for her to continue. “Caroline’s with the baby. Thought I’d bring you a beer.” She cracked it open and put in his outstretched hand. “People are going to start coming in tomorrow.”   
“I know.” 

“Good, because half a dozen of them are staying here. The rest are in rooms at the motel.” People were coming in from all over since Laura’s family had spread out over the country. “Maybe we should work out a signal when you need to get out of a conversation?” Natasha hopped up onto his work bench, sitting near where he was carefully trimming feathers. “You could tug on your ear,” she joked. 

“You’re in my light.” 

“I’m aware,” Natasha shot back before she stole the beer. “You need to take a break. Your eyes are crossing.” She poked him in the chest with the pointy end of a feather getting a frown from him. “People are going to ask about a name.” 

“Tasha…” 

“Don’t Tasha me. I’m telling you so you’re prepared for them to ask. I don’t care if we keep calling him Kid. It’s not like he’ll know.” He closed his eyes and looked like he was going to keel over. “Come here.” She pulled him over so he was resting his cheek on her thigh, Natasha’s fingers in his hair. They did this sometimes after a really bad mission or after Natasha or Clint were having nightmares out in the field. They were incredibly close, something Natasha had never felt with another partner, not that she’d had many willing to work with her. He sighed heavily and relaxed against her, his weight shifting as he brought his arms up to wrap around her waist. “You’re going to keep moving,” she told him. “That’s how we’re going to get through this. I’ll keep you on your feet, Barton, but you need to keep moving with me, ok?” He just hugged her tighter and nodded a little. 

At some point he started to cry, but Natasha didn’t show that she noticed. It didn’t matter, actually she was glad for it. He needed to cry. He needed to scream and punch through a couple of walls because this was not fair. This was not right. Caroline, to her credit, didn’t come looking for them so Natasha was able to sit there with Clint until he gathered himself naturally. She didn’t want to push this or push him. Clint just laid like that, his head in her lap as she stroked until she felt him go limp. He fell asleep and she wound up staying still to be his pillow for almost two hours before he woke again and she was able to get him inside. Caroline had put the baby to bed and was currently sitting on the sofa reading as she saw Natasha bring Clint inside. “Can I help,” she asked quietly. 

“Caroline,” Clint greeted. 

“Hey Clint.” She reached out to hug him and Natasha let him go a moment hoping he wasn’t too sleep deprived and buzzed to hold up a brief conversation. “I’m glad you came in from the barn. I was hoping we could talk a little.” 

“I….” Clint looked at Natasha who shrugged. They all sat down, Clint wishing they’d gone in the back to avoid her. 

“Clint, my mother and I were talking….” 

“This can’t be good,” Clint informed Natasha.   
“Just hear me out,” Caroline said softly. “With everything that you deal with, your job… your … lifestyle,” she called it. “It’s going to be impossible for you to raise a baby alone.” She gave Natasha a smile. “She’s here right now and bless you for being here, but Natasha will eventually have to go back and so will you. What then?” 

“What are you saying to me right now,” Clint asked. Natasha reached out to squeeze Clint’s forearm. 

“I’m offering to take in the baby, raise him as my own. Then you can go back to your life after you take some time to mourn. You could always visit him whenever you’d like and….” Natasha had to stand up fast to keep Clint from doing something stupid. “Clint, please don’t be upset. Just think about it.” 

“You and your mother can find somewhere else to stay until the funeral. You’re not welcome here.” Clint wasn’t what you’d typically call inhospitable. If he knew you and cared for you, anything he had was yours to use. Caroline had just shit on that and Clint was taking it very much to heart. 

“Clint, I….”

“Do I need to sign it out for you? Get the fuck out of my house.” Natasha tightened her hand at his bicep. “Now.” 

“I have nowhere to…” 

“We have rooms on hold at the motel in town,” Natasha provided helpfully. She understood what Caroline and her mother were trying to do but timing really was everything. “Why don’t you go pack up. Clint and I are going to make some tea.” Well, it ended up that Natasha made tea and Clint glared at the staircase until Caroline came down. She opened her mouth to speak and Natasha just shook her head. Clint wasn’t going to move on this tonight. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the church.” 

Caroline and her suitcase were out the door a few minutes later, leaving Clint grinding his teeth at the table. “Hey…” Natasha came closer, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Take some breaths. No one is going to take your child away from you, Clint. And anyone who tries is going to have to go through me before they even have to fight you for him. Got it?” She wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck, hugging him tightly. “You don’t have to think of anything right now but getting through the next three days.” Tomorrow was picking out things at the church and otherwise preparing the space. Thursday was the wake and Friday was the funeral. It was a long way to Saturday which was the day Natasha intended to spend in bed crying. Until then she had to be strong for Clint.


	3. Chapter 3

“Do we have to?” Natasha looked up from where she was sitting on Clint’s sofa. “I can just wear a …”

“What, Clint? What are you going to wear? A stained t-shirt and jeans?” 

“I have sweaters,” he defended. 

“Without holes?” Her brow rose and he turned away defeated. “We’re going in twenty minutes. Go shower. Put on clean underwear with no holes. You’re trying things on.” Clint stomped off, grumbling. You’d think she was taking him to get fitted for a noose, not a suit. Though, really, he was probably just seeing it as some memento of this hellish moment in his life. She watched him go then looked down at Clint’s boy, still without a name, “this is a good life lesson, kid. Don’t pout. It’s not becoming.” 

“I’m NOT pouting,” Clint called from upstairs. 

“Exactly,” Natasha told the child in the swing. “You need to eat, don’t you,” she looked at her phone as it went off, a reminder of what the baby needed to eat and when scheduled because Natasha had genuinely not known that feeding and keeping a baby alive was as complicated as it was. She stole every moment she could to read child development and parenting sites, books, to ask Google as thousand questions and get ten trillion answers and very little help most of the time. 

Natasha had gotten quite good at feeding one handed so she could continue whatever else she needed to do, adjusting to the baby’s movements because he was quite wiggly for someone whose skull hadn’t fully fused yet. She was most of the way through doing the dishes one handed when Clint came back downstairs with a look on his face. “It’s flu season. We shouldn’t bring him out.” 

“Nice try, Barton. Get your shoes on.” Natasha herded them into the hall and then the car, letting Clint double then triple check the baby’s seat before he got in next to him in the back letting Natasha drive. “Music,” she asked. Clint shrugged so she put on a channel with a story about beet farmers in the midwest. It was boring but benign much like the area they were driving through. Natasha was not a fan of the midwest. It gave her hives to think about the number of TGIFriday’s and Starbucks per capita. She preferred big cities with a fair bit of anonymity. Natasha was aware that she had a tendency to stand out like a sore thumb in environments like this unless she put on an alter which she was avoiding doing with Clint right now. 

The mall was sad and dingy from the outside and overly bright and saturated with crappy pop music on the inside. As a rule, Natasha avoided malls whenever possible. It just wasn’t possible this time. Sad, but this was the only place locally Clint was going to be able to find a suit and he refused to travel too far from home at the moment. “Come on. The quicker we get this done the quicker I can get home and work on some arrows.” In Clint’s language, that meant the quicker we get home the quicker I can drink while pretending to make arrows in the barn alone. She didn’t plan on letting him continue doing that but did hand the baby off to him to slow him down a little while she pretended to struggle with the stroller. 

The laughter was surprising and it would have been slightly insulting if she hadn’t looked up to see the conflict in Clint’s eyes. “Laura picked that one because you can do it one handed.” He reached over while holding his son and flipped the whole apparatus around until it was a stroller not a bunch of mushed metal and fabric. 

“I’m really not meant for this,” Natasha tried to cover not wanting him to be insulted by her feigned ignorance. Her admission, though, was very close to the surface for her and one that hurt to give voice. 

“Oh you’ll get it, honey,” a passing woman said. “No new mommy thinks she’s going to be any good.” She gave Natasha a thumbs up and Natasha returned it, staring at Clint once the woman turned and walked away mouthing: what the fuck? 

“I told you we needed to move fast,” Clint pointed out genuinely amused by Natasha’s discomfort. She played it up a little mostly to see his face relax. It was a small price for her to pay. “Busybodies… everywhere,” Clint made an expansive gesture. “Welcome to the Midwest.” 

_Operation Get Clint a Suit_ turned into _Operation Get Clint a Sweater and a Tie_ pretty rapidly after he ripped a sport coat arm in two reaching for something. It turned out that this random little mall in Iowa didn’t have the suit coats built for archers with giant upper bodies. Go figure. 

“It’ll take me twenty minutes or less. Do you think you can manage,” Natasha asked Clint with a nod to the dismal women’s section. They’d managed to stay away from busybodies and their ilk since the parking lot so he knew they were cutting it close. 

“I’m not an invalid,” Clint pointed out. “You need me here or…”

“Go ahead,” she nodded to the stroller. “Clint… what about him?” Natasha nodded to the baby who had nothing for the service. They’d already decided that he was going since Clint wasn’t willing to leave the baby with anyone and it wasn’t like the kid was riding solo just yet. 

“… do they make baby suits?” Clint stared at his son in real curiosity. “Guess we’re going to find out, huh Kid?” Natasha felt strange sending Clint out into the mall to find a suit for his newborn so to wear to his mother’s funeral. Still, the mall was closing shortly and they still needed to get things done. Natasha kept her promise and was done in twenty minutes, meeting Clint with a bright blue slushy and an over-iced cookie at the baby store about a half hour later. Well, the one he was currently at. He’d been to two already, apparently. She had to give the man credit, he knew how to shop efficiently, he’d bought the baby more t-shirts and socks at one of the places, a little suit at the second, and was now looking at a sweater a lot like his own. “Hey,” she handed over the slushy and took the baby. “Hey bud… you got a couple things, huh?” 

“He’s such a cute baby that it’s hard not to want to dress him in everything,” the clerk told Natasha. “I’m Gabrielle. Let me know how I can help!” With that she went back to searching for a newborn sweater on the computer. “Still looking, Mr. Barton. Hopefully we can get it shipped here express from…. yep, I knew they’d have it! Iowa City. I can ship it to your house if you’d like. I can guarantee it there by tomorrow at two pm.” 

Clint opted for that and thanked the girl a couple times because he seemed genuinely pleased not to have to come back to the mall. “They’re closing up soon,” Natasha pointed out as Clint sipped his blue drink. “You ready?” 

“You got what you need?” Natasha nodded. “Good. I got one more stop. You want to get him to the car?” 

The baby had started to fuss, the probable result of a dirty diaper, but Natasha was just guessing from the smell. “Yeah, probably a good idea.” 

Clint came back to the car holding a sleek white bag with a familiar fruit logo on it to find Natasha playing peek-a-boo with the baby. “Clint?” 

“What,” he asked as he pushed the bag in her direction. “I know it’s not the same but you needed a new one anyway.” Natasha’s brows knitted and she looked into the bag to find a small plastic box with a pink metal box inside. An iPod. Simple, non-GPS enabled, antiquated but lovely all the same. “Those are going off the market,” Clint told her with a nod to the little iPod Shuffle. “The guy said they’re stopping selling them in a week. Tried to get me to get the other one with the touchscreen.”

“It’s perfect,” Natasha told him. Truthfully, she’d missed her little music player and her runs had been boring as hell with nothing to listen to. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Clint shrugged. “… thanks, Nat.” She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze before refocusing on starting the car and getting them home.


	4. Chapter 4

A different crying than she’d been used to the past few days woke Natasha very early the morning before the funeral. Other than Natasha’s run, showers, and the bathroom, Clint and Natasha had been attached at the hip. Or, rather, attached at the baby it felt like. “Hey,” Natasha looked up at Clint who was sitting on the floor with a pile of photographs clearly still working on their project from last night. The funeral home told them to bring photographs and Clint had taken it quite seriously. 

“…. this is it,” Clint said. “Today’s the last… this is the last thing I get to do for her, Nat.” 

Sleep-bleary herself, Natasha crawled out of bed and onto the floor, bringing the blanket with her. She didn’t say anything at first, just let him cry mostly because Clint needed to. He would likely be Mr. Stoneface the rest of the day, but if he could let a little out now it might help him maintain that demeanor he felt he needed to put up. “Sorry, you’re wrong.”   
She said it quietly, matter of factly, and combed her fingers through Clint’s hair to get him to look up. “What?” 

“I said you’re wrong, Barton. You see that little man, the one you need to name,” she said, “everything you do from now on is for that little guy and _that_ is for her.” Natasha pressed her lips to Clint’s temple. “You raise him how you know she wanted you to.” When Clint had told Natasha Laura was pregnant he’d confessed that he had mixed feelings. Clint hadn’t felt he was a good enough person to make a good dad. It still remained to be seen what kind of dad Clint was going to be, though so far he was doing a damn good job all things considered. “Help him be the man she envisioned, Clint.” 

Clint slid his hand into Natasha’s and lay there against her just breathing like it was the most difficult thing in the entire world. Maybe it was for him right now. “Cooper,” was all Clint said at first. “I’m going to go with Cooper.” 

It was enough for the time being.

Only the time being didn’t last. They had to get up, to finish the posters, to bring the trays and trays of food people had brought to the house to the funeral home, and a million other little things all while getting a little boy ready to see his mother for the second and probably final time. Cooper started to cry from across the room and Clint was up on his feet in a near Pavlovian response. Good, that was going to serve him well in the next few days. 

The place, big as it was, was empty save them. Word got around about Clint throwing Caroline and Laura’s mother out of the house and no one came from the family. There would be a few friends staying the night tonight most likely, but Clint was letting one of the church ladies deal with all that. He’d gladly given it over when she offered over a cup of tea and some semolina and honey concoction that Natasha was still picking out of her teeth. 

She watched Clint shoulder Cooper, rocking him on instinct because that was all Clint did now; operate on instinct. He was just barely functional so Natasha was sticking close, watching him and keeping track of the baby’s feedings and sleep just to be sure he didn’t come up poorly because his mother had died. “You ok if I go get a shower,” Natasha asked. “Need anything?” 

“Bring me a bottle,” Clint asked. Laura had been firm on the notion of breastfeeding but wasn’t obtuse about the fact that it may or may not work, so she’d purchased some newborn formula which was what had kept them from frantically trying to pick one out at two in the morning at Target. She’d done her research because not only was it highly rated by every doctor’s group Natasha could find, it was the most expensive thing on the shelf with all the little award labels on it. Natasha had learned more about baby formula than she’d ever cared to know that first night when she was double checking that the formula really _was_ the best. She did not object to a late night Target run if it was necessary for the baby. For Cooper. 

That was going to take a little getting used to. To be honest, Natasha had been working on back up names just in case Clint couldn’t manage. None had seemed right so Natasha was secretly glad that she wasn’t the one with the task of naming. Cooper was whimpering, hungry, by the time she got back with the warmed bottle. “No worries, little man. Breakfast is here.” She handed the bottle off to Clint who offered it up. The hungry boy latched on immediately, wide eyed and sucking away on it. “Must have been starved,” she said as Natasha wound one arm around Clint’s middle. She took over the bottle and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her lightly. 

“Maybe we should increase what he’s getting if he’s that hungry,” Clint asked. “What does Doctor Spock say?” He waved in the direction of baby books they’d pulled out of Laura’s library over the past few days. The guest room had a desk so Natasha had set up a little baby fact-finding office complete with her own laptop and the journal they kept track of feeding, pooping, sleeping, and everything else the kid did. Neither of them trusted their instincts around a child enough to just wing it so science and the scientific method was going to win the day, at least that’s what Natasha sincerely hoped. 

“He says we’ll try it tonight and see.” Natasha shrugged a little and pulled the bottle out for Cooper to catch his breath, “patience, patience,” she told him. “I just didn’t want you to choke.” 

“Thought you were getting a shower.” 

“It’s your fault,” Natasha teased. 

“My fault?” Clint’s brow rose, genuinely curious how her not going to shower was his fault. 

“Yeah… your kid is really cute. Makes a girl want to stay and coo or something.” Natasha tickled Clint’s side and stepped away as he pulled the other way to avoid the tickle, taking the bottle back. 

“Coo or something,” Clint echoed with a head shake. “Could you see her cooing? Maybe some baby talk that isn’t for a rich older gentleman she’s trying to get national secrets from?” 

Natasha stuck her tongue out and headed for the shower with the tiniest smile on her lips. They worked together well, always had, so this ought to be no surprise. Yet it was, and a nice one in a melancholy sort of way. Natasha had long since given up hope of something like this for herself so even to be here for the time being just as a help to Clint, she was getting her reward and then some. It was hard not to feel guilty about liking having moments like that with her best friend and his kid.


End file.
